


Peace

by Torytigress92



Series: War and Peace Trilogy [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clone Wars era, F/M, Force-Sensitive Padmé Amidala, Implied Sexual Content, Implied one-sided Anakin Skywalker/Padme Amidala, Originally posted to FF.net, Rise of the Empire Era, This is the Aesir we're talking about here, Underage Kissing, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torytigress92/pseuds/Torytigress92
Summary: Padme Amidala was not sure what she was expecting when she met the Prince of Asgard, but it was never this.Never him. He would change her life and her destiny forever.As for the Silvertongued Prince, a Queen from another galaxy might just give him the chance for redemption that was offered too little, too late, and change the course of his own destiny forever.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: None  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing

The sunlight streamed in through the towering glass casements, puncturing the marble walls at regular intervals, ordered and neat, repaired after the turmoil of the Trade Federation’s invasion a year and five months before.

Padmé waited, robed and swathed in the gowns and white makeup of the Queen of Naboo, surrounded by her council and handmaidens. Captain Panaka and his team of security volunteers stood behind her, alert and ready should there come any hint of an attack.

Nute Gunray might be in custody, but not even the sixteen year old Queen was naïve enough anymore to think he couldn’t organise an assassination from prison, with his wealth and connections.

But even that dark day had been overshadowed by this…utterly incredible moment. Contact with a race from another galaxy.

It had long been known it was possible, however travel between galaxies had long thought to have been impossible due to the temporal mechanics. In short, it would simply take too long.

Or so they had thought.

The dignitaries coming to visit her planet for a week were of a world named Asgard, and their Prince was coming with his diplomats to foster peace between the peoples of Asgard and the Galactic Republic.

Little was known about the Asgardian Prince, other than his name, and those in his retinue. Loki. Prince Loki of Asgard.

He had been touring the worlds close to the Outer Rim that were a part of the Republic, and now it was the Chommell sector’s turn. Padmé had been told that he was travelling by starship while in their galaxy, rather than by whatever means he had arrived there. It was accepted that hyperspace travel outside of the Galactic Rim was impossible, although there were stories, mere footnotes really, insubstantial myths that told of inter-galactic visitors millennia before, long before the birth of the Republic.

She was curious, eager to find out how he had travelled to her galaxy so quickly. With all the turmoil, and rumours of star systems planning to secede from the Republic growing ever more troublesome, it was a balm, a relatively simple task in an increasingly dangerous universe.

This was what she had been born for. Diplomacy.

As footsteps, swift and strong, echoed along the halls, Padmé drew herself up, straightening her shoulders and assuming the mask she had worn since she became the Princess of Theed, trying to ignore the usual discomfort as her headdress and heavy gown weighed on her.

* * *

 

Beneath the peak of his helmet, Loki’s vivid green eyes roved over the elegant marble courtyard, trailing swathes of ivy creeping down the pillars and curling over ornate flowerbeds. Compared to some of the worlds he had visited on his mission for the All-Father, this was certainly one of the least odd worlds he had ever seen.

He took a deep breath of the air, inhaling its sweetness deep into his lungs, and felt an odd sense of peace wash over him. The murmur of the river not far away was a gentle, musical accompaniment to the sounds of birdsong and quiet murmurs of conversation, as the Governor of Theed and his entourage greeted him and his men, carefully selected warriors from the All-Father’s personal guard.

It had not come as a surprise when Loki had been selected for this task. Thor was many things, but a diplomat was not one of them. He would be more likely to return home having started a war than fostering peaceful relations with this galaxy.

As for this Realm, Naboo, he could only imagine what his brother would have made of it. They had an elected monarchy, for Valhalla’s sake! And a Queen who was only sixteen years old!

A sly smirk momentarily passed over his features beneath his helmet, before his diplomatic face regained control.

This should be interesting.

* * *

 

Padmé straightened when she saw Governor Bibble and the phalanx of uniformed security guards appear around the corner of the hallway, momentarily blocking the sight of the armoured, towering Asgardians beyond.

They were a race of warriors, it seemed. Some still idealistic, instinctive, part of her recoiled, even as she now knew only too well the necessity of war, at times, but she would not allow it to show.

Her gaze fell to the tall individual in their midst, draped in emerald green, and shining, interconnecting plates of golden armour crisscrossing the dark tunic beneath. He walked with a fluidity and grace that his guard lacked, the proudly arching horns of his helmet towering over even the other horned helmets of his guard. Unlike his men, he did not openly carry weapons.

He didn’t need to. Padmé could feel a tangible, throbbing aura of power, draping him as effectively as the cloak on his broad shoulders. It reminded her of the power she sensed when in the presence of Jedi, but different. When she had travelled with Master Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, for those few short days, their power had emanated from them like a warm, calming pool that reassured and protected. The power she sensed in the Asgardian Prince was darker, wilder, akin to a thunder storm on the seas of Naboo. For the moment it, and he, was benevolent but she wondered uneasily how quickly it could turn to malevolent.

She wondered what the Jedi Council would make of him, when he went to Coruscant.

Deep emerald green eyes met hers, and a deep shiver washed through her. They shone with intelligence and power, yet there was an odd…desolation she could see in them, mingled with the confidence and power of one born to rule. Every instinct in Padmé was whispering that this man was dangerous, to her, to Naboo, to every living being in her galaxy, but she was also drawn to him, almost against her own will, and the pain she sensed beneath the surface.

She had always had an instinct for the feelings of others, mild empathic abilities that had served her well as a politician and a monarch. She had never been tested as a Jedi, but she sometimes pondered if she was Force sensitive, at least somewhat. Either way, untrained and mostly dormant, she used what gifts she had for the greater good, so the lack of training was no great disappointment. She didn’t need to be a Jedi to do good in the galaxy.

Called back from her thoughts by the approach of the Asgardians, she met the eyes of the Prince once more, meeting his gaze steadily, but not aggressively. They were to be allies, not enemies.

As the Naboo guards and Governor cleared from his vision, Loki caught his first glance of the young Queen of Naboo. She awaited them, surrounded by a phalanx of brightly robed women, their faces partially covered, looking like the petals of a flower, and the Queen its centre.

The Queen herself was small, slight, but her bearing; regal, proud, made up for her lack of height. White paint disguised her features, her top lip painted red, the lower split in two by a vertical stripe of scarlet. Serious brown eyes, deep and dark, watched him seriously, beneath the ornate headdress, her hair a deep shade of mahogany, coiled intricately atop her head, and intertwined with the complex looking headdress.

Her robes, bright red edged with black fur and embroidered with gold, did little to enhance her figure, but he could tell she was slender. The thumbnail of each hand was painted white.

But it was the cool serenity and fierce intelligence which all but sparked in her eyes that caught his interest.

“Your Highness,” the Queen inclined her head, her voice deep with authority, but he could hear the youth in it. How did a sixteen year old mortal rule such a Realm as this, let alone accomplish all he had been told she did during the first few months of her reign? “Welcome to Naboo, and the Chommell sector.”

“Your Highness,” he inclined his head. Padmé felt that velvet voice wash over her like a warm breeze in the Lake Country. “I am honoured to have been invited. I look forward to closer acquaintance with this Realm and its people.”

Padmé met his eyes, and suspected there was more to his words than most would hear. She smiled blandly, and inclined her head as far as her headdress would allow.

* * *

 

That night, Loki stood at the balcony of his quarters in the palace, looking up at the gleaming discs of the three moons of Naboo, the stars beyond twinkling in the sky. Despite the sun having sunk hours before, it was still balmy, and evening birdsong played in harmony with the sound of the nearby river and waterfall. He looked down into the gardens, graceful lawns hedged in by trees and low marble walls, rows and rows of flowerbeds bursting with colour, dyed shades of black and blue by the night, the soft fall of water in fountains mimicking that of the waterfall outside the palace walls.

A sudden disturbance to that peaceful night time scene caught Loki’s sharp eye, and he bent forward on the balustrade, his eyes narrowing.

A figure, draped in dark cloth, wandered in the moonlight, and he recognised the robe of one of the Queen’s handmaidens. But the bearing, the movement, reminded him of a far more powerful female, whose acquaintance he had made just that morning.

With a grin, Loki called upon his magic, disappearing from the balcony, and down to the gardens below.

Padmé wandered, revelling in the freedom her disguise lent her. The night air soothed her thoughts, as she wandered the lawns, ducking under the trailing leaves of the trees, relishing the coolness of the shade even as she thrilled to the warmth of the summer air.

It had been a good day, if slightly unhelpful. While relations between the Asgardians and the Naboo seemed to be progressing well, she still knew so little about their enigmatic Prince, Loki.

And she had thought Jedi were bad!

Smiling softly to herself, she did not feel the presence of another, until she almost stepped into him, eyes widening as she recognised the strong body, freed from its armour, that she had almost stepped into.

The Asgardian Prince.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness!” she babbled, instantly retreating into her familiar disguise, that of Padmé the handmaiden. “I did not see you.”

Her tone held a faint tone of rebuke. Loki smiled to himself.  
The Queen of Naboo was a good actress, but she couldn’t fool him. While garbed as a handmaiden, in their flame-coloured robes, she still carried herself with a regal grace he recognised. It reminded him of his mother, Frigga.

She might move less rigidly, without the impediment of the symbolic makeup and robes, but Queen Amidala could not hide her true self from him.

“It is nothing,” he inclined his head formally. “I was not watching where I was going. Pray, excuse me.”

She inclined her head in turn, and made to walk away, but Loki’s words stopped her. “What is your name, handmaiden? I do not recall seeing you at the Welcoming ceremony.”

“Padmé, Your Highness,” she offered, quietly. No harm telling him her real name; since he didn’t know of her disguise. “And I was attending to the Queen’s wardrobe with some of the other handmaidens.”

“I see,” Loki murmured, a slight hint of a chuckle in his words as he stepped close. She was truly beautiful, he could see that now, in the moonlight. Her hair, long, curly, extended down her back, silvered by the light of the moons, her eyes relieved of the tint of formality, gleaming with an inner fire that had been missing from her mien that morning.

Interesting.

He bent his head to her ear, smirking slightly as she tensed. “Your disguise may fool others, Your Highness,” he whispered. “But do not make the same mistake of thinking me equally blind.”

Padmé met his eyes coolly, yet inwardly she was rocked by his words. She opened her mouth to rebuff his accusation, but that palpable feeling of power rose up again, and she uneasily decided that honesty was her only option.

“It is still not common knowledge that I go about so,” she breathed. “I would appreciate it if you did not speak of this, Your Highness.”

His gaze softened, and with it, his power, as he stepped back, giving Padmé the room to breathe again. “But why the disguise?” he asked, genuinely curious. She fell into step beside him, leading the way out of the copse of trees, and gestured elegantly with one hand.

“It is a security precaution. Monarchs have been assassinated before, my own predecessor among them,” she explained. “It was my head of security’s idea, and-”

“It allows you some freedom, to come and go as you wish, without answering to anyone,” Loki finished for her, and she started, shocked by the accuracy of his statement.

“Yes,” she murmured. An understanding smirk lit his handsome face, and she found herself tracing it idly, taking in the severe but elegant lines of his cheekbones, and the gleaming viridian eyes, framed by dark hair, darker than the night.

“I know something of that wish,” he confessed, gesturing with one hand, and Padmé yelped as an exact duplicate of the man standing beside her appeared in a flare of golden light, disappearing again the next instant, making her wonder if she had imagined it.

“What was that?” she gasped, eyes wide. Loki chuckled.

“A little trick I have spent years perfecting. It comes in useful when I wish to escape, or come and go unnoticed,” he explained. As she recovered from the shock, she smiled freely.

“Well, some of us are not quite so talented. My handmaidens are trained as bodyguards as well as decoys, and they are trained to take my place if a situation becomes too dangerous. It was rather useful during the trouble a year or so ago.” she replied wryly.

“Ah, yes. Your Governor Bibble told me of it,” he inclined his head. “A bold move, if I may say so, the Gungans creating a diversion while your forces infiltrated the palace to capture Viceroy Gunray. I had gathered that your people are…pacifist by nature?”

“We are. We do not wish for unnecessary violence,” she told him, eying him narrowly, expecting a retort, but he just chuckled, shaking his head. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking that my brother would find you most vexing,” he murmured. “War, and battle, is Thor’s greatest joy. But I tend to agree with you; war is not necessary until all other solutions have failed.”

Padmé stared at him, surprised anew, and he smiled wryly.

“Not what you were expecting, Your Highness?” he asked, turning to face her. She shook her head.

“No, I confess. I had thought…you were a warrior, like your men,” she began awkwardly. Something flashed in Loki’s eyes, and he looked away.

“And so I am, but I do not take overt joy in war, as my kinsmen and comrades do,” he replied softly. “I fight only when necessary.”

Like a Jedi. Padmé felt an odd weight shift from her chest, and she smiled freely.

“Then, I think, we may have much in common,” she breathed. “When we are…private, like this, call me Padmé.”

“Ahh, so that is your name?” Loki purred. She nodded, trying to ignore the way his voice made her spine melt. She hadn’t felt this way since Palo…or Ian. “And Amidala is merely a formal name?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I took it when I was elected Queen.”

At that Loki frowned slightly, and she watched him with amusement. “You do not approve of our system, Prince Loki?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head, laughing. “Not that, but I confess, I find it somewhat difficult to fathom. I know there are Realms in my own galaxy that practice similar systems of government, but on Asgard, the Aesir have always been ruled by a hereditary monarchy.”

“Aesir?” Padmé frowned questioningly.

“The name my people are called by. Asgard is the name of our Realm,” he explained. “Has there always been an elected monarchy on Naboo?”

“Not always. Our ancestors were not so peaceful as we, and the last of the hereditary monarchs died without issue. After that, we simply elected our monarchs instead,” she explained in turn.

“A somewhat long-winded system, Padmé,” he murmured, teasingly. “How do you get anything done?”

Padmé laughed, finding herself swiping him on the shoulder teasingly. They had almost reached the palace again when Padmé turned to face him, lingering by the entrance to her rooms.

“Goodnight, my Prince,” she inclined her head.

“Goodnight, my lady Padmé,” he bowed in turn, extravagantly, making Padmé laugh at his silliness, even as the action made her heart skip a beat. “This will be our little secret.”

“Might I invite you to dinner, tomorrow night? I would enjoy continuing our discussions,” Padmé offered, inwardly wondering why her heart was suddenly beating so fast with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. She pushed those feelings away, squarely meeting Loki’s gaze .

“I would be delighted,” he inclined his head, sincere pleasure lighting up his eyes. He was genuinely intrigued by this young mortal Queen, and wanted to know more. “I will see you tomorrow, my lady.”

And with that he ensnared her hand, pressing a kiss to it, before disappearing with a devilish wink. Padmé blinked, caught off-guard, then turned away, firmly putting the incident from her mind, at least until Sabé helped her dress for bed.

Then, when the lights had been extinguished, she could not forget the feel of his soft, thin lips against her hand.

* * *

 

The next day was filled with official duties, but Padmé looked forward to the evening with unfeigned anticipation.

Since it was an informal dinner, there was no need for the elaborate robes and makeup expected of the Queen of Naboo. Instead she had Sabé bring her a dress of soft lavender that clung to her every curve, her body still maturing even if her mind had finished. The rigid bodice was embroidered with her crest in silver thread. Apart from a silver chain around her neck, a gift from her mother the day she was elected Princess of Theed, she wore no other decoration.

“You look lovely, Padmé,” Sabé murmured warmly. “I’m sure the Prince will be very flattered you dressed so well for him.”

Padmé blushed, in that moment reduced to the young girl she truly was, as her confidant and handmaiden laughed knowingly.

Loki was unprepared for the shock of seeing the Queen when she entered the private dining chamber just off her quarters. The gown she wore floated along every lithe line of her body, her long hair restrained and swept up, showcasing the line of her neck and shoulders. She was young, very young, but already Loki glimpsed a beauty there that would only increase with time.

He bowed, as was customary to royalty, even elected royalty, but she laughed and gestured for him to rise. “Don’t be so formal,” she begged softly. “Here, we’re just Padmé and Loki. Yes?”

“As you wish,” he smiled devilishly, snaring her hand and raising it to his lips. Her breath hitched, and he led her to a seat at the long dining table. He frowned up its length, before he glanced to her mischievously and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the place setting and chair that awaited him at the opposite end disappeared and reappeared to the left of Padmé, so they might sit and converse freely while they ate.

Padmé watched with wide eyes, as he sat and poured water for them both. “How do you do that?” she asked. “Are you a Force Sensitive?”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he took a sip of the cool, clean spring water, and placed the intricately crafted glass flute down. “Ever since I entered this galaxy, I have heard references to such a phenomenon. What is this ‘Force’?” he asked.

“Well, the Jedi believe that there is an energy field all around us, that binds us and the entire galaxy together. Force Sensitives are beings who can sense and manipulate it. Have you met any Jedi yet?”

Loki shook his head. “I have heard them spoken of as great warriors and negotiators for your Republic.”

Padmé nodded, as the attendants stepped forward to place crystal plates of fruit and nuts in front of them. “They are,” she murmured, a slight sadness marring her pretty features as she remembered the sacrifice of Master Jinn. “They seek only to defend and serve, to protect the peoples of the Republic. When you go to Coruscant, I expect you shall meet their High Council.”

“I look forward to it,” he replied softly, watching that sadness lift slightly, and feeling his heart lurch. “In answer to your question, no I am not a Force Sensitive in the terms you think of. I wield magic, the power of the elements and the forces that govern the universe. I would enjoy meeting your Jedi and discussing this with them.”

“Will you tell me about Asgard?” she asked, cutting into a pear and daintily lifting the sweet fruit to her lips. “Your galaxy? Do your family rule all of it, or only a part of it?”

Loki tore himself away from the sight of her lips gently swollen by the juice of the pear, forcing back his instinctive reaction. “My family rule over what is known as the Nine Realms, although that is more an honorary rule now. Vanaheim, Nornheim and Alfheim acknowledge our sway, but it is more a symbolic thing than a tangible difference in power. On Midgard, we are forgotten entirely, except in the myths and legends of the native peoples, where we were worshipped as Gods. Helheim, Niffleheim and Jotunheim are naught but barren wastes, empty and cold. The Frost Giants of old still rule Jotunheim, but the All-Father broke their power long ago. But Asgard…Asgard is by far the superior of all these worlds. She stands, tall, golden, everlasting, a gleaming beacon of hope and light across the stars. She truly has no equal.”

Padmé had stopped eating, totally entranced by his words, the elegant gestures of his hands as he moved them.

“Asgard itself is like one shining world, of golden towers and sapphire seas, emerald forests and icy mountains. The sky above is a tapestry of burning stars and nebulae, so it looks like it is covered with swathes of vibrant, filmy silks, outshone only by the Asbru Bridge itself, that glows and ripples with the light of a thousand stars,” he continued, pausing when he noticed her smile. “Do I amuse you?”

“Amuse? Not exactly. More entranced; you speak very eloquently. I could see it in my mind’s eye,” she admitted, looking down at her plate with a blush. He smiled wickedly, and they ate in silence for awhile, both just enjoying the other’s company.

“Tell me,” he began, some time later. “Why did you choose to become Queen?”

Ignoring his slightly inaccurate choice of words, she smiled a little reminiscently. “I grew up a village in the mountains. We were quite removed, isolated, but my parents taught my sister and I about the importance of duty and self-sacrifice. When I was still young, we moved to Theed. The Government runs a mandatory Legislative Youth programme, for those between the ages of ten and eighteen. I became Princess at twelve, and Queen at fourteen.”

Loki nodded. “You are very young to hold such a burden,” he murmured softly, and far from feeling patronised by his words, Padmé felt them like a balm. She shrugged.  
“On Naboo, adulthood is measured in intellectual maturity, not in physical age. I’m not the youngest Queen ever elected,” she replied, fiddling with her fork. “I love my home and my people. How could I not give everything to them that I can?”

Loki smiled at her simple dedication. It both drew and refreshed him; he understood about duty.

“And you, my Prince?” she asked, turning those dark, doe eyes on him, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Do you feel the same?”

“I do,” he agreed. “I may not inherit the throne but it will always be my duty to protect the people of Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

Padmé smiled, glancing down at her meal. “You mentioned a brother? How many siblings do you have?”

To her surprise, Loki’s face darkened as he sat back in his chair. “Thor is my only sibling, and he is enough, believe me,” he sighed. “And you?”

“Just my older sister, Sola. She is going to have her first child soon,” she replied, sensing his desire to avoid the topic of his brother.

“So you are to be an aunt?” he asked with a smile, his good humour seemingly returning as they moved onto safer topics. “Will you have much time to see them, when the child is born?”

“I hope so,” Padmé smiled, a little ruefully. “If not, well I’m facing re-election in two years. Who knows if I will be Queen after that?”

Loki took a sip of water, and smiled to himself. “Oh, I have a funny feeling you will.”

“Are you a seer now as well?” she asked teasingly. He raised an eyebrow, and she couldn’t hold back the laughter.

He joined her, for a while, before catching her hand and holding it to his lips. Padmé stilled, her laughter dying and her breath hitched as she met his burning emerald eyes.

“You should not tease, my lady,” he breathed. “I have a feeling because I know you, a little at least. And I am certain that you have many years left on the throne.”

“Only six, at the most,” she interjected softly. “One of my first pieces of legislation was to limit the reigns of future monarchs to two four year terms.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked, frowning slightly, as she looked away. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“My predecessor, King Veruna, reigned for many years, and he was extremely unpopular by the end. I think it is a bad thing for one to rule for so many years without challenge. It makes people arrogant and complacent,” she explained softly.  
“Remind me to introduce you to the All-Father one day. I would be interested to see what you think of Asgard,” he smirked. His fingers shifted against hers, and she suppressed a shiver.

“I would like that, one day,” she forced back her weakness, and gently extricated her hand on the pretence of picking up her water glass. “Maybe you shall take me.”

“Oh, I would make it a solemn vow right now, my lady,” he smiled, and it was a sweet, soft smile, almost boyish. Padmé felt her heart race. “You shall go to Asgard one day, when you are no longer a Queen. Have you thought of what you might do once you are no longer Queen?”

“I had thought to marry, settle down, maybe have children,” she replied. “Perhaps become a teacher.”

“You would make an excellent mother,” he sighed, and she glanced at him, surprised. “You care, with all your heart. I see it in the way you smile at your servants, in the way you care for your people, how fierce you are in their defence. You are a mother born, Padmé.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gently. His eyes held hers, almost tenderly, and she blushed, looking down at her plate.

She could not do this. She was the Queen of Naboo, and he a foreign dignitary. She could not fall in love with him.

But as Padmé glanced back up, meeting his soft, liquid gaze; she began to wonder if she truly had any choice in the matter.

* * *

 

She did not see much of him after their dinner together. She had official duties, and he was seeing to his own, as he visited and spoke with various leaders of Naboo, from business, to culture and the arts. From what she heard, all and sundry were impressed with him. He was charming, eloquent and cultured in his own way, different to the Naboo, but hardly inferior. He had won her people’s hearts easily.

She thought about him, though, in her few private moments. Remembered the velvety touch of his lips against her hand, those strong fingers around hers. Scolded herself when she caught herself doing it.

He would be leaving soon, to continue his tour of the Republic. There was no use wishing for something that could never be possible.

* * *

 

Loki thought of the young Queen often. The art of diplomacy was second nature to him, he didn’t need to focus especially hard to be charming for these people, so he had plenty of time to contemplate the young woman who ruled the Naboo.

She was an intriguing little thing. She was rather young, and idealistic, but Loki had only to look at her to glimpse a tiny, momentary flash of what she might become. She was already beautiful, but time and experience would mould that beauty until it became intoxicating. Added to her fierce intelligence and loyalty, both to her morals and to her people, the whole sum of her parts made it easy to understand how a fourteen year old girl led her people to freedom and victory. Her people would die for her.

Acknowledging the slight ache in his chest when he thought of her, he frowned where he sat in his living quarters. The next day was the Ceremony of Farewell, and then he would be gone, to continue the next leg of his lengthy journey through the Republic.

A small smile broke through his contemplation, and he reached for his magic. Soon, galaxies would separate them, but he would find a way to stay with her.

He wandered in the gardens, when he returned to Theed, but she did not come.

* * *

 

The next time he saw her, it was at the Ceremony of Farewell, attended by all of Theed and a delegation of Gungans. He stood with his men, cloaked and armoured, as the Governor of Theed spoke.

Padmé stood on his other side, draped in diaphanous white silk, her hair elaborately coiffed and strung with jewels. The white of her face paint seemed all the more stark against the mahogany of her hair.

She met his eyes, and smiled coolly. He returned it, but couldn’t resist a little mischief.

“And may our two worlds go forward together, in peace and harmony…”

As Bibble ceremoniously droned on, he met Padmé’s eyes, and smirked. She eyed him, a little bit of colour suffusing those marble cheeks, and from the glint in her eyes, he surmised she would be sticking her tongue out at him if she could.

Her eyes narrowed warningly, and he schooled his features into a suitably bland expression as she stepped forward, the sides of her cloak drawing away to reveal her bare arms, smooth and graceful in the afternoon light. She took a carved enamel box from an attendant, as he stepped forward.

“A gift from the Naboo, in friendship, to the Aesir,” she intoned formally. “In hopes that our future relations might continue to grow and prosper.”

Loki took the box, not quite letting her hands go as his covered them. “I thank you, Your Royal Highness, for you and your people’s kindness and hospitality to me and mine. You shall not be forgotten,” he replied, equally as formal, but as her eyes met his, he winked. Her eyes widened, and then her lips twisted in a kind of grimace, and her chest trembled.

* * *

 

He’d almost made her laugh.

He had almost made her laugh, in the middle of the Ceremony. Padmé sat at her dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror, makeup removed, hair loosened, jewellery gone, the only marks of her office left the diaphanous cloak and gown beneath.

That moment, when she had felt his hands, strong and elegant, close over hers on the box, her entire being had shuddered. Added to that, Loki’s teasing glances and warm smiles had been impossible to resist.

No one, however, had ever been able to make her lose her focus during such an important moment. She should have been angry with him, but she found recalling the incident only made her smile more.

Her handmaidens had left her alone for the evening, and her work done, the evening meal awaited her on a tray, but she found it unappetising.

He was leaving tomorrow.

Sighing, looking down at her pale hands, splayed on the wooden surface of the table, she couldn’t find it in herself to be too self-mocking or indignant. It simply wasn’t worth the effort.

Perhaps, she would go down to the gardens tonight, in hope she would find him again.

Suddenly, a cool, heavy weight settled around her neck, and Padmé started. Her head shot up, and she was already reaching for the secret distress button on the bottom of her dressing table when she met familiar agate eyes in the glass.

Loki.

He had placed a light, golden chain around her neck, from which hung a pendant, an intricately crafted piece that looked like some kind of letter.

“My name, in the alphabet of my people,” he whispered in explanation. “A final gift, from me to you, Padmé.”

“It is beautiful,” she smiled, graciously, ignoring the fact that for him to be in her rooms, alone, with her was highly improper. She didn’t refuse the gift; to do so was the height of rudeness, and the diplomat in Padmé refused to do it. “What do the symbols engraved on the metal mean?”

“Protection and affection,” he replied, his fingers tracing the intricate runes. “Intertwined with the rune which signifies my name, in the ancient language of Asgard.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, covering his hand on her neck with her own. The movement of his fingers was doing strange things to her skin. She smiled self-deprecatingly, and looked away. “But to what do I owe such a gift?”

She could almost hear his frown in his answer. “I think you know, my lady,” he whispered.

She nodded. “I suppose I am not the only one to see the lunacy in this. You are leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he sighed, and she met his gaze in the mirror. “But I shall return. This necklace is more than just runes, my lady.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, touching the golden sigils again, wonderingly. They felt warm now, against her skin, and Padmé was almost sure she could feel a pulse of power rushing through the yellow metal.

“They are enchanted. If ever you are in need of me, the runes will alert me, and I will come to you,” he explained, as she turned to him and stood. “Nothing will keep me away.”

“Loki…” she breathed, but he cut her off with a finger against her lips.

“Hush, ástin mín,” he whispered. “I regret our time together is short, but know this. Distance cannot and will not make my affection fade, nor will Time. Not for me. Should you need me, I will come.”

The feeling that rushed over Padmé like a tidal wave should have frightened her, and it did, at a visceral level. It was fierce and heated, overwhelmingly so. Her heart pounded, at the burning gaze he held her captive in, and she wanted…something.

Something more than just a necklace and words, no matter how magical or earnest they were. Both could be false, as any politician would know.

He seemed to sense it, as he exhaled almost tremulously. Silently, he reached out and slid his hand around her waist, beneath the cloak, and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips to her smooth, flawless forehead, and then to the bridge of her nose.

“What are you doing?” she asked, in a whisper.

“Kissing you,” he murmured, trailing his lips down her nose, hovering over her lips. She met his eyes, smouldering with both passion and another emotion, one she didn’t recognise. Wordlessly, she stretched up, offering her mouth, and he kissed her gently, tenderly.

His lips moved against hers, ever so sweetly, and she moaned against his mouth. He pressed in, once, twice before retreating, leaving her wanting more, her inexperienced body crying out in disappointment.

“Until our next meeting, ástin mín,” he breathed against her lips, and then the weight of his hand at her waist disappeared. She opened her eyes without even realising she’d closed them, to realise he was gone.

She would not see him again for eight long years.

* * *

 

 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implied sexual content, description of graphic injury, implied violence  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing

 

She was still reeling from the shock of the attack. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the wreckage on the landing platform, the flames, and Cordé’s eyes as the light flickered out in them, and Typho’s gentle, firm hands leading her away.

She knew it was for the greater good, that her men and her handmaidens had done their duty to her and to Naboo, so that she could do hers, but she did not have to like it.

Cordé’s and Versé’s death would not be for nothing.

They had just returned from the Loyalist Committee meeting, and her nerves were strung tight. Despite her refusal of more security, she was on edge, looking for assassins in every shadow. She needed to focus.

Unconsciously, her hand went to the pendant she always wore around her neck. Usually hidden beneath the voluminous robes she wore, at that moment it was nestled in the valley between her breasts, glinting in the soft light of the setting sun. The image of Loki, as she had last seen him, tall, gleaming in the Naboo sun, dark and handsome, rose in her mind’s eye.

She hadn’t seen him for so long, it made her heart ache. She had thought of him, of course, but she had never allowed herself to call upon him with the pendant. He had said when she needed him, he would come, but she had never needed him, not really. Wanted, yes. Needed, no.

Her life had been hard but fulfilling, and while she had forgone her dreams of family and love, she had suffered very little. There was so much true suffering in the galaxy, that her private regrets seemed little in comparison. This latest seemed set to swamp the galaxy with fresh misery, if diplomacy could not win the day.

She had not needed the comfort his gift had promised, until today. Now…she needed him.

But she didn’t know how. He hadn’t told her how to summon him with the pendant, only that if she needed him, he would come.

She closed her eyes and remembered him, his sensual, handsome face, that dark hair like obsidian, and those flashing, jewel-like eyes.

She felt a surge of heat wash over her, and the pendant turned hot beneath her fingers. She thought of the flames, of the heat of the explosion, and the fire and the roar, and then the panic and the fear she’d hidden from everyone since looking into Cordé’s eyes as she died rose up, bursting the boundaries of her control.

Her breathing swept from her in a rush, as her heart raced. But just as fear spiked in her blood, she felt strong, slender hands slide over her shoulders, and shuddered in relief.

“I’m here,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m here, ástin mitt, at last. It was about time.”

Padmé sat up, opening her eyes to see him beside her, solid and real and there, as she’d longed for so many times. He stood behind her, clothed in dark leather and an emerald cloak, jet black hair slicked back. He was unchanged in the eight years since she had last seen him.

She, however, was much changed.

Loki had waited so long for the pendant’s call, that he had started to lose patience. Now, however, the wait was over and not a moment too soon.

Her beauty had only grown, matured, as he knew it would. In the intimate surrounds of her bedchamber, with her hair down in long ringlets, and her eyes swimming with tears of fear and pain, he felt like he was seeing something so precious, behind the mask and the paint of the Queen he remembered, and the girl he had briefly known.

He did not need her to tell him what had happened. Heimdall had kept them abreast of developments in the Republic, as well as the Nine Realms, and he knew about the assassination attempts.

But as the All-Father claimed, it was not their place to interfere directly, even if it meant the life of an innocent. Of Padmé.

“Loki…” she breathed, breaking the spell over his thoughts, and he refocused on her.

“I know, Padmé,” he murmured. “You’re safe now, with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her gaze was direct as she met his. “You know who’s trying to kill me.”

It was a statement, not a question. He sighed, but didn’t deny it. She looked down and away, rising from her stool and gliding towards her bed, the light, loose folds of her shift rippling in her wake.

“The All-Father forbade any intervention,” he felt compelled to explain, moving with her. “He claimed it is not our place to intervene in the affairs of other Realms that are not under our protection.”

“But you disagree?” she asked, turning to face him.

“In this case, yes, I do,” he replied firmly, reaching out a hand to her cheek. “I will keep you safe, Padmé.”

She couldn’t resist the temptation in those eyes, and went into his arms, exhaling tremulously as they closed around her, holding her tightly, as if she was precious to him. Safe. Loved.

“I missed you. You don’t look a day older,” she murmured, resting her cheek against his heartbeat. It thrummed reassuringly beneath her ear.

His hand caressed the liquid silk of her curls, free and loose, as he breathed in the scent of her as deeply as he could, rivalling the most fragrant blooms of Asgard.

“You never left my thoughts,” he whispered. “I was hoping you would call for me, sooner.”

“I wanted to,” she admitted, her heart pounding, as the strength in the body against her own impinged on her senses. Strong, warm and full of life. She raised her head, meeting his gaze steadily. “But I couldn’t bring myself to be that selfish.”

They both stilled as desire washed over them, and memories of their one kiss rose in both minds. Padmé stretched up on her toes, bringing her mouth to his. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her gently at first, until her hand slid into his hair, pulling him closer with a quiet moan.

His kiss turned hard, urgent with long-suppressed need, and she slipped her arms around his neck, letting him pull her closer. No one had ever made her feel this way, and it both thrilled and terrified her. However, Padmé had had enough of fear for a lifetime. She let her desire rule her, for once.

She’d had a tantalising taste of this, so many years ago, and she desperately wanted it again. She wanted more.

She supposed brushes with death could do that to a person.

He pulled back suddenly, gritting his teeth against the lust roaring through him. “Padmé….” he breathed, meeting her eyes, amber and glowing with her own desire, and a need that called all too readily to him.

“Please…?” she whispered. “I need you.”

Those three words. Loki had so rarely heard them from others, and now they sank into his heart and emblazoned themselves on its surface. He couldn’t resist her.

His lips fell back to hers, and she sighed with relief, as that intoxicating heat she felt so often from the pendant rose and intensified, as his hands caressed at her waist. She willingly let herself fall back when she felt the soft edge of her bed against her knees, holding out her arms to him as he followed, not content until his body was once more back against hers.

* * *

 

When she woke up, she was alone, except for the warmth at her core and lying around her neck.

She didn’t see him again for weeks, not until she returned to Naboo, and hid away in the Lake Country, and her heart was heavy.

She had allowed Anakin to kiss her.

She had seen and heard nothing of Loki for days, not since their first and only night together. She’d begun to think he was tired of her, that he had got what he wanted from her and now his promise was void.

Perhaps it was that confusion that paralysed her limbs as the young Jedi had bent his head to hers on the terrace. That hurt, that longing for him, which drove her to seek another’s kiss, to quench the thirst for more.

It had quenched nothing, and shown Padmé that she truly felt nothing for the young Padawan. When he had walked into her apartments, the morning after Loki’s reappearance, she had been surprised by his handsomeness, and unsettled by his intensity. How easily it could be mistaken for attraction!

She had been so stupid anyway. Even if she had felt more for Anakin than professional courtesy, she was a Senator and he a Jedi. There could be nothing between them. She only hoped his infatuation would end when his assignment did.

She just wished her infatuation with the Aesir Prince would end, since his clearly had.

Alone, in the cool marble of her room, she sat on a window seat, her head in her hands. She wanted to rip her own heart out so she would never feel this way again. She was a Senator; she could ill afford such feelings when there was so much work to do. She would not sit and waste away over some alien from another galaxy.

Once the investigation into her attempted assassinations was complete, she would return to Coruscant and resume her duties and the work of diplomacy. She only hoped Bail and the others would succeed in delaying the Military Creation Act long enough that she could return in time to prevent a war.

And she would never think of him again.

With her resolve firmly in place, she rose from her seat and felt beneath her collar for the rune necklace he had given her long ago. She pulled the chain from her neck, and regarded it for a moment, the gold links gleaming in the Naboo sun, reflecting the diamond shards of light from the lakes outside her window.

She should throw it away, but instead her hand closed around it, and she crossed to her dressing table, opening a small carved box and laying the chain inside. Her fingers lingered on its now cool gold, before she closed it, and tucked it away, out of sight.

For now she would mourn, then she would get on with her life.

* * *

 

The days passed, and the seclusion of the Lake Country suited Padmé’s mood. Anakin attempted no more advances, and remained professional but friendly, and she was relieved to return the favour. They shared meals and talked, but otherwise spent little time together.

Until that night, when they’d had dinner and discussed Anakin’s training, and he had teased her. She should not have let him think there was more to it than friendliness and companionship, had not wanted to do so, but his declaration of his feelings seemed to tell otherwise.

She had rebuffed him as gently as possible and escaped, unable to bear looking at him when she imagined another in his place. Someone she didn’t want to want, but had no choice in the matter.

As she stood in the darkness of her bedchamber, the light of Naboo’s moons her only illumination, she realised that truth only too well.

She was in love with Loki.

She had chosen her dress for him, wondered if he was watching, perhaps even unconsciously. The tight black bodice and silk skirts all belied the cool resolve she had made to forget him.

She tore the long choker from her neck, hating its heavy, cumbersome weight and slowly retrieved the necklace from its hiding place. Listlessly, she held it in her hands, her mind sinking into what-ifs and maybes.

* * *

 

Loki watched her from the shadows, watched her slender form displayed so deliciously in black leather and silk, and felt that now familiar desire well within him. Ever since he awoke after their night together, and had left her in confusion and fear, he had watched her.

He never truly left her, not even when she took off the necklace, and he could no longer feel her. She was always in his mind, there, in the very centre of his being, as vital as breath.

That night had shaken him to his very core. True, he had been impatient to return to her, but once he did…

He had not expected this. Never this.

Once he left her, he fought, he drank, he studied, he fulfilled his duties as Prince, he did everything he had ever done before, and would continue to do for millennia, but she never left him. She did not fade, and each night he was tormented by memories of her.

He’d forced himself to accept the hold she had over him, because staying away from her was just too painful. Then he felt her connection fade, and knew it was time to return to her.

And beg forgiveness for his cowardice.

The pain he felt when he had seen her with that young pup, barely out of childhood, had been overwhelming, the only consolation that she had refused him so firmly.

He’d seen that her necklace was missing, which explained the loss of connection.

Forcing himself from his thoughts, he inhaled deeply of the fragrant air of Naboo, and stepped forward into the moonlight.

* * *

 

She felt him before she saw him, or even heard him. The rune all but glowed in her palm.

“Where were you?” she asked, in a cool whisper. She felt the feather-like touch of his hands over her shoulders, and fought back her shudder. “I needed you, and you didn’t come.”

Especially after the last attack. They had infiltrated her bedroom, her inner sanctum, the one place she was supposed to feel safe. She had almost died were it not for Anakin and Obi-Wan‘s timely intervention.

And when she had needed him, in the dark hours before dawn as she tried to rest, he hadn’t come.

“I am sorry,” he breathed, his words like a dark murmur in the night. “I have no excuse.”

She shrugged off his hands. “Get out,” she replied, still refusing to yield even as her soul cried out in rebellion at the thought. She felt the air shift, and that aura of power she had sensed in him from their very first meeting grow and rise, like a coiling serpent readying for the strike.

She was spun around and forced to him, her eyes locked on his. She caught her breath at the sight of him, hair silvered and skin pale in the light of the moons, tall and menacing, yet with a seductive power that called to her.

But his eyes…

His eyes were the most revealing. Like two mirrors, they reflected her pain and hurt, except there was something else lurking in those two emerald orbs, something that made Padmé pause.

Fear.

She had to fight to hold on to her anger, at the feel of his hard body against hers, but his next words easily assisted her in that task.

“Tell me, why did you refuse him?” he asked, all but snarling. She stiffened. “That earnest young boy? Hmm? I think you almost broke his heart…”

“You had no right to invade my privacy,” she replied scathingly. “Or does that concept not exist on Asgard?”

“I have a right to protect what is mine,” he growled warningly, and she stared at him, aghast.

“I do not belong to you,” she shot back, writhing in his grip. He fixed her with a cold, steely glare and she fought the urge to look away. His grip gentled, but before Padmé could work up the strength to push him away, he bent his head to hers. Braced for a passionate assault, she was taken aback as his lips gently pulled and teased at hers, tempting her into an intimate game. His mouth was tender, almost worshipful, and Padmé felt herself softening.

“Hjartað mitt, forgive me,” he panted, when they drew apart for a moment, lips brushing, his words shivering down her spine.

“I don’t love him,” she replied. “I love you.”

“I know,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “And I broke my promise to you, that I would come when you needed me. I was a coward, forgive me.”

“Alright,” she smiled. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Oh, I assure you, I will never abandon you again,” he chuckled, leaning in once more. “I would not wish to cross such a fire spirit.”

Before Padmé could retort, he kissed her, deeply, more urgently than before, and she twined her arms around his neck. His tongue probed the seam of her lips, and she willingly gave way, pulling herself against him with a quiet, entreating moan.

With a shriek of laughter from Padmé, he swept her off her feet and into his arms, and laid her on the bed with a tenderness and care that pierced Padmé’s heart anew.

* * *

 

“Come back with me.”

Padmé was ripped from her peace by those four words. She had been languidly resting in the cradle of Loki’s arms, head pillowed on his chest, while her hair billowed over his bicep. She looked up, aghast.

“What?” she gasped. His emerald eyes were serious, holding her intently.

“Come back to Asgard with me. It’s too dangerous for you here,” he continued earnestly. “Padmé, if you stay, you will die.”

“Loki, I can’t just leave! Not now, not with so much riding on my work in the Senate,” she replied firmly. “The Jedi are investigating and when they find out who is trying to kill me, I’ll be able to finish my work in the Senate. I can’t just run away!”

“Or they may not find out your would-be killer in time, and you could die,” he retorted coolly, as she sat up with an angry snort, pulling the sheet around her. He caught her around the waist, refusing to let her go. “Padmé, I could not bear the prospect of anything happening to you. Hjartað mitt, I want a life with you, not this rushing back and forth. I want you safe, in my arms, for the rest of eternity.”

Every word cost him, but he pushed them out, and he meant every one.

Her breath hitched, as his words sank in, but she couldn’t give in. She had her duty, no matter how much she wanted to give in.

What surprised her most was that she wanted to give in. Despite all she believed, all her life and her parents had taught her, she wanted to be with him.

“If you want to protect me, then help them! Tell them who’s trying to kill me!” she finally mustered the strength to shoot back, and he stiffened, looking away.

“You know why I cannot. I am forbidden to interfere!” he replied, his voice low, almost a growl. He was angry, frustrated.

“Then why are you even here?” she asked, freeing herself and reaching for a robe which lay over her chair, cinching the sash tightly. “I have a duty to my people, to my planet, and to the Republic. I cannot leave.”

Loki watched her from the bed, eyes dark, as she stood, trembling but resolute.

“Your duty will get you killed,” he snapped shortly, rising from her bed and snatching up his breeches. Padmé looked away.

“You once said you understood about duty. Tell me, what would you do in my place?” she asked, looking back at him defiantly. Silence fell, tense and uncomfortable.

He finished pulling his surcoat on, before taking a step towards her. He opened his palm, and nestled inside was the rune necklace. Meeting her gaze steadily, he held the necklace up, before stepping behind her and lifting her hair. She felt the familiar warmth of the pendant as it settled in the hollow of her collarbone, and then his kiss against her neck.

When she turned to look, he was gone.

* * *

 

Searing pain was all that filled Padmé’s world. Her back, her skin where it had been slashed open, the bare flesh pressing against the hot sand, her head, her arms and legs, all of her was in agony.

She rolled, letting her momentum carry her where it would once she hit the sand dune, blackness crawling at the edges of her vision. She heard a panicked scream of her name, and then nothing more.

Through the pain, she felt the heat of the pendant, cold for so many days since her last encounter with her lover, flash.

Then she felt no more.

He had never left her. After their quarrel, he had waited in the shadows, watching over her as they went first to a planet called Tatooine in search of the boy’s mother, then to Geonosis in search of his mentor.

The boy seemed rather fond of dragging his Padmé all over the galaxy, even if it was by her own volition.

He had forced himself to hold back when they had become trapped in that weapons factory, and then again in the arena when they were sentenced to execution.

But when the creature had hurt his Padmé, he hadn’t been able to hold himself back anymore. Taking extra care to shield himself from both the sight of the spectators and from Heimdall, he had nudged the mind of the beast that had been corralled by the boy, and sent him in the direction of Padmé, crushing the monster with its horned snout.

After that, he had protected Padmé as best he could, deflecting blaster bolts with his magic when she did not see them, until the boy suddenly seemed to remember his charge and came back to protect her.

If either had noticed a few droids’ propensity for shooting bolts at their own side rather than them, they did not show it.

But this…this he could not but interfere. She lay before him, on the scorching sand, her perfect skin marred by the creature’s claws, her body broken by the fall.

He dropped to his knees beside her, lifting his shield so he was visible to her, before taking her hand. The pendant pulsed, and he gritted his teeth as he drew his magic forth and poured it into her.

He sought out breaks and fractures, healing them and smoothing them so they were as if they had never broken, before turning to the wounds on her back. He lifted her into his arms, and placed his palm against the gritty, bloodied flesh, and wreathed his hands in magic until they were shining fists of emerald light. At the same time, he sought out the damage to her skull, and with a rush of air from his lips, healed her and brought her back from the brink of death.

Padmé sucked in a deep breath, and her eyelids fluttered. Relief coursed through him, and he bent his head to her dishevelled hair, pressing a kiss to it.

A gentle hand tightly gripped his armoured wrist, and he looked down to find her gazing up at him, wondrously, doe eyes alight with surprise and relief.

“But I thought…” she breathed, gazing up at him from her position sprawled in his arms against the hot sand.

“You needed me. For me, there is no higher duty,” he replied fervently, before bending his head to hers and kissing her passionately. Her hand slid into his hair, and gripped tightly, as if to keep him with her forever.

He felt tempted to tell her she needn’t bother trying. He was hers for all eternity.

* * *

 

They won the Battle of Geonosis, but lost the war.

The Clone Wars began, but Padmé buried her inherent sense of failure, and returned to Coruscant, and to the Senate. She kindly but firmly told Anakin good luck and goodbye, and they parted cordially.

She suspected he knew she would never love him the way he loved her.

Her heart was wholly given to another. He came to her every night, and the love she felt for him only grew with each hour spent in his company. Wherever she went, whatever she did in her service to the Republic, he came to her.

One night, after returning from the Senate to find him waiting for her, she noticed he was not himself. It had been five years since Geonosis, and she knew him well.

Well enough to know when something was wrong.

He stood on her veranda, leaning against a marble pillar, watching the traffic as it rushed past. Overhead the stars burned fiercely through the smog that perpetually covered Coruscant, as Padmé stepped out of her bedchamber, her nightdress of lavender silk floating behind her.

She touched his shoulder, tentatively, then clasped it entreatingly. “What’s wrong, Loki? And don’t tell me nothing,” she began gently. His lips quirked.

“You know me too well, my love,” he murmured, taking hold of her hand and raising it to his lips. They stood in silence for a moment, before Loki sighed and gave in.

These last years with Padmé had been a dream. While he was still determined to take her back to Asgard one day, he also enjoyed the secrecy of their relationship. For the first time, he had something which was wholly his, and his alone.

But that dream was coming to an end, with this latest news. He had been expecting it for centuries, of course, but it still hurt.

And he was still determined to do something about it, for the Realm and for his own sanity. Thor would be truly impossible to live with, otherwise.

And there could be no harm in telling Padmé this, at least.

“Father has chosen an heir,” he began to explain, as she listened closely. “My brother, Thor, is to be King when the All-Father steps down.”

“Loki,” she sighed, stepping close. She did not resist when he drew her into his arms, resting his head against hers, closing his eyes to hide the pain and the disappointment away from her and the rest of the world. “I am sorry, my darling.”

“I expected it, really. Thor was always our father’s favourite, and Asgard’s,” he replied. “Nonetheless, I fear for Asgard.”

“Why?” she asked, raising her head, to frown gently up at him. He met her gaze steadily.

“You recall what I told you of him, when we first met?” he asked, smiling slightly as he remembered the slip of a girl who had so intrigued him, thirteen years before. She smiled too at the memory, before sobering. “He is reckless as ever, and arrogant. He lusts for war and battle as some lust for food and drink. I worry that he might seek a war with Jotunheim, even exacerbate the hostilities between our Realms, in the name of glory and his own vanity.”

“He will have you to guide him,” she replied softly, stroking his cheek with her fingers. It soothed his hurt pride, reminded him there were others who saw his worth, even if Thor and the All-Father did not. “You would have made as fine a King, Loki. I don’t doubt that.”

“I wish my father saw what you seem to see, my lady,” he kissed her fingertips lingeringly.

“I’m sure he does. Perhaps he has another purpose in mind for you, one he believes better suited to you,” she replied soothingly. “You are strong and clever, Loki. Don’t doubt your worth, because it is great. I love you.”

He smiled. “I know,” he breathed, pulling her close, feeling the runes of his name and protective enchantments press against his chest through the fabric of his shirt. She rested her head against him, and sighed.

“I hate this war, all this bloodshed and suffering,” she breathed. “I just want it to end.”

“It will, love, as all necessary things end eventually,” he soothed her in turn.

“I am not so sure it is necessary. I am not sure it ever was. The Chancellor grows more powerful, day by day, and our democracy is eroded with every death and every Act granting him more executive powers,” she admitted, raising her head to meet his eye.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he murmured, smirking slightly. She frowned, then rolled her eyes teasingly. “I won’t give up.”

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, meeting his eyes, and felt her heart clench at the shadow in those emerald depths. “Loki…whatever you feel, whatever you think, please…don’t do anything rash.”

He eyed her piercingly, before chuckling mirthlessly. He pulled her back into his embrace, pressing a kiss to her curls.

“You know me, my love,” he whispered. “I never do anything rash.”

* * *

 

She did not see him again for a week. She paid it no heed, thinking he was just occupied with his duties, especially if his brother was ascending the throne soon. Worry gnawed at her, as she recalled his pained face and the shadow in his eyes, but she pushed it aside.

For all his darkness, Loki loved his brother and his home. He would do nothing to put it in serious jeopardy.

She waited, working during the day, and hoping he would come by night, but he did not.

That night, she stroked the rune around her neck, looking out her window at the fiery sunset, before sighing and retreating to the darkness of her bed.

* * *

 

S _he dreamed._

_She was stood on a long, crystalline bridge that pulsed and raced with light beneath her feet. Stars blazed overhead, and as she looked behind her, she saw a shining city._

_Asgard._

_She looked back, towards the end of the Bridge, to see a man, white-haired, with golden armour, crouched over the jagged edge, gripping something._

_As she approached, dread and grief filled her heart, and she cried out when she looked over the edge beside him._

_Below them, a blonde haired giant in scarlet and silver armour dangled upside down, clutching a long, golden staff in his hand._

_And grimly holding onto the shaft was Loki._

_His dark hair was dishevelled, his face pale, his cloak flying out behind him in the wind from the closing vortex beneath him. Anguish and rage burned in his emerald eyes, but pain and yearning replaced them as he looked up towards Padmé and the crouching man._

_“I could have done it, Father!” he called out, his voice the cry of a little boy, in pain and desperately seeking comfort. Padmé’s heart broke, as she glanced sideways at the man._

_So this was the All-Father._

_“I could have done it! For you! For all of us!” Loki continued, his voice breaking on the last word, and Padmé’s heart clenched in dread. She wanted desperately to reach out to him, to speak, but she was mute and paralysed. She could only watch, horrified._

_“No, Loki,” the All-Father breathed, and Padmé gasped. She did not know what was going on, or what Loki had done, but a part of her sensed the truth._

_Her gaze locked onto Loki’s and held it, even though he could not see her, and saw the agony, greater than any physical wound, grow and overwhelm him, followed by a deep, sad resignation._

_“Loki, no…” his brother murmured. “NO!”_

_Thor’s heartbroken cry was matched by Padmé’s, as she watched Loki’s slender, graceful fingers uncurl around the staff, and he fell._

* * *

 

She awoke with a scream and tears running down her face, as her handmaidens rushed in, trying to soothe her, even as her chest rose and fell in jagged gasps.

And even though her mind told her it was a dream, her heart knew.

The pendant was cold around her neck.

* * *

 

 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing

In the months that followed, Padmé tried to stay strong but it was growing ever more difficult. The war dragged on and on, and news came of more and more death, and planets destroyed by battle. That alone was enough to drag at her spirits, except there was more.

She was becoming increasingly certain that something had grown rotten at the heart of the Republic. She felt like she was fighting to stay upright against a tidal wave of corruption and despair. She was not alone in her fight, but they were increasingly isolated among more calls for more executive powers for the Chancellor, and more star systems seceding to the Separatists.

But above all of that, more important and more saddening than even the death of democracy, was the fact she did not know if Loki was dead or alive.

She had only her dream to go on, and the loss of warmth in the pendant, that told her something had gone wrong. She didn’t know what had happened, or why, but she sensed it had to be something to do with Loki’s brother.

She recalled the way he looked when she last saw him. Anguished, brooding, in pain…

Her fingers played with the necklace nestled in the hollow of her collarbone. Clutching it tightly, she looked out of her bedroom window at the skyscrapers of Coruscant, and hoped.

* * *

 

Two months later, and everything changed.

She could barely believe it. She stood at the windows of her main sitting room, bathed in the amber glow of the Coruscant sun, the skirts of her dark emerald green gown pooling around her, and placed a hand against her abdomen.

It had started early that morning. She had been sleeping, fitfully, when the oddest sensation washed over her mind.

Curiosity. But it didn’t come from her.

She had woken, frightened and puzzled, as that feeling washed over her again and again, and she tentatively relaxed against her pillows. Using the training she’d received from the finest minds on Naboo, she made herself calm then cautiously searched deep within herself for the source of that feeling.

Anakin had once told her that Force mind tricks only worked on the weak-minded, and implied she was immune. So it wasn’t some kind of intrusion from a Force-user, but then what…? What was it?

She had gasped as something else bubbled up inside of her, something warm and comforting. A thought took shape, and once it started, there was no stopping it.

She had put down the fact that she had not bled since before her last encounter with Loki to her work and emotional distress over Loki, but what if it hadn’t been? What it was something else…?

What if this was something else?

As soon as the sun had risen, she had cancelled her morning’s appointments, and visited a physician, who had confirmed her suspicions.

And now there she stood, her hand pressed against her stomach, as that same wave of curiosity and joy washed through her again.

She was pregnant.

Sorrow washed over her, overwhelming and complete, and she buried her face in her hands for the first time, and wept.

* * *

 

She was with child, and the father of her baby was dead. She had no choice but to resign once the pregnancy became obvious, which thankfully, was not then. She began to wear looser, more voluminous robes and gowns, and told only a few select people about her pregnancy.

When she began to show too much, she would inform the Queen and resign from the Senate.

The more the war dragged on, the more Padmé lost hope. The Republic was becoming something she was not sure she wanted to be a part of, and darkness hemmed her in at every turn.

She longed for Loki’s touch, for his comfort. She wished, with the fierce regret that only comes once a chance is passed over and then recalled wistfully, that she had gone with him to Asgard. Perhaps she might have been able to help him, to stop that terrible vision of the bridge and the fall.

Perhaps, she could have saved him.

Her lover had become her whole world, but she hadn’t realised until he was gone, beyond recall. And now she carried his child.

She forced herself to remain positive. She would not slip into depression. It went both against her own personality, and she would do nothing to harm the baby. It was all she had left of the man she loved, thus she would defend it with her life.

As she reached her sixth month of pregnancy, the voluminous cloaks swathed her and hid her ever-swelling stomach from curious eyes, but not for much longer.

She informed Queen Apailana of the situation and requested the initiation of proceedings to elect a successor. It would take some months, but hopefully before she gave birth. In the meantime, she worked tirelessly to ensure the new Senator had all they needed to continue her work.

She did not feel the sadness she thought she would, nor did she feel any sense of failure. She had done all she could, but her heart was no longer in it. Were it not for the child, she might have been overwhelmed by her sorrow entirely, but the thought of Loki’s baby growing inside of her kept her going.

She began to suspect the child was Force-sensitive with every passing day. She always awoke to the sensations of her child’s emotions, as it grew inside of her, and sometimes during the day, she could feel its developing mind reaching out to hers.

She supposed it was inevitable with a father like Loki. To make certain, she visited her physician, who tested Padmé not only for her midi-chlorian count, but also that of her baby’s.

The baby’s was extraordinarily high. The highest since Anakin Skywalker and Master Yoda. Padmé herself possessed a substantial midi-chlorian count, above average in a non Force-user, and she guessed that was why she could feel the baby’s emotions. Her mind, untrained as it was, was reaching out to the child, and vice versa. It was oddly comforting, as well as frightening. She did not want it known that her unborn child was possibly as strong in the Force as the Chosen One of Jedi prophecy.

She also discovered something else from the examination. She was carrying a baby girl.

* * *

 

That night, she was stood in the seclusion of her bedroom, veiled from the outside world by the security blinds. Gowned in loose, steel-gray silk, she brushed her hair, the rune pendant hanging down her sternum, humming an old Naboo lullaby to herself. Her little girl stretched and shifted inside of her, and a wave of contentment washed through Padmé’s mind.

Then she froze. The pendant all but glowed with heat, as she lowered the brush to the side, and turned around.

Her breath hitched entirely.

The room was only dimly lit, but she could see him as clear as day. Tall, dark and mesmerising, as a choked sob escaped from Padmé’s lips.

“Loki!” she gasped. She went to move forward, into the light, but he held up his hand.

“No,” he whispered, and his voice was low, huskier than she had ever heard it before, almost rough and guttural. “Stay where you are, Padmé.”

Despite the joy welling up inside of her, she paused, confused. “Loki, what happened? Where have you been?” she asked instead.

“To Hel and back,” he laughed mirthlessly.

Padmé frowned. “I don’t understand…”

“But you will,” he breathed, and she detected a slight note of sadness in his voice. “Just wait a moment, hjartað mitt.”

He seemed to shudder, as if cold, and then he stepped into the light, and she gasped. Sapphire blue suffused his skin, from his hands, and over his neck to his face. She guessed it was the same for the rest of his body. His dark hair, wilder and longer than she remembered, seemed to take on an even darker tone, with an icy blue sheen. Raised markings stood out on his skin, and when he opened his eyes, they were crimson red.

“What…?” she breathed, as she moved forward. “What’s happened to you?”

“This is my true form, my lady,” he replied, a deep undertone of self-loathing running beneath his voice. It made Padmé’s heart sink, even as the cracks that had existed in it since her dream healed over. “My entire life has been a lie. I am a Frost Giant, a monster from children’s tales, not a Prince of Asgard.”

“What? How?” she finally moved into the light, and it was her lover’s turn to gasp in shock. She glanced down, to the smooth curve of her heavily swollen stomach, and smiled through her tears. “A lot has changed since you left.”

“I see that,” his voice was cold, stiff. “Clearly my hope that you would remain true to me was a forlorn one. But my congratulations, regardless, my lady.”

Padmé froze as if struck, stunned. What…?

“Loki, there has been no other,” she told him, meeting his red gaze firmly. She stepped close, and raised a trembling hand to his cheek, shocked to find it cold beneath her touch. “These past months, I have mourned you as a widow would. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“But…then…” he searched her eyes hesitantly, his skin twitching beneath her touch. He looked down again, and his breath rushed from him in a gasp. “The child is…mine?”

“She’s yours. Ours, even,” Padmé replied earnestly. “Our daughter, Loki.”

He shook his head, as if unable to fathom it, then closed his eyes and leant his forehead against Padmé’s. “How can you stand to be so close to me? To this?” he hissed in disgust. She drew back, frowning up at him.

“Why should I not? I thought you dead, Loki,” she replied firmly. “I saw you fall from the bridge on Asgard…”

“But how…?” Loki breathed, but Padmé continued determinedly.

“And I have longed for nothing more than to have you back in my arms. I love you, and this skin, this face, is still the face of the man I love,” she finished, caressing his icy cheek with her fingers. He closed his eyes, in pleasure, before snapping them open again.

“Padmé, I came only to say goodbye,” he murmured. Padmé’s hand stopped, frozen, and she gaped at him in pain and dismay. “I wished to see you, one last time.”

“Why?” she asked. “No, stay with me, please. I love you, I want you here. I need you here.”

“I cannot stay,” he replied, moving back. “I have been betrayed, exiled from my rightful place. I will take what is rightfully mine.”

“What do you mean?” she met his eyes, and went cold. Immediately, their daughter sent a calming, comforting wave of warmth through her, but it couldn’t thaw the ice around her heart.

“I was born to rule, Padmé, and I will. I have power, allies. I will take my place as King,” he replied. “There is another world, one my brother professes to love so much, that is in dire need of a ruler. I will be that ruler.”

“And if they do not want you?” she asked. His gaze when it turned to her was cold, alien, and she felt her heart break.

“Then they will all fall before me,” he snarled.

“No. No, stop this now!” she exploded, rushing towards him and taking his hands tightly. “Come back to Naboo with me. Help me raise our daughter, and leave everything behind while we still can! Don’t do this!”

“I will not be denied,” he replied coldly. Her eyes searched his, and her jaw firmed.

“You would choose your own lust for power over me? Over our daughter?” she asked in a broken whisper. His face flickered, as the blue faded from his skin, and his eyes returned to their familiar emerald tint.

“Come with me. Rule by my side,” he whispered, but Padmé let out a laugh that was half breathless sob, half mirthless chuckle.

“No.”

“Then you do not love me,” he retorted icily. She glared at him, despite the pain welling in her very core.

“I love you more than anything in this entire Galaxy, but no. You are a good man, Loki. You do not need power or a throne, you just think you do. But if you do this, I will not follow you. I can’t,” she replied, as her control wavered, and tears began to trail down her cheeks. “You’re going down a road I cannot follow.”

He paused, as if conflicted.

“If you loved me truly, you’d know I could not do what you’re asking of me,” she continued. He started, then tensed, his fists curling, dissipating the icy coolness that had clung to him before.

“I do love you!” he snapped, striding across the room to take her by the arms. She moved back, stepping away from him. The yearning, pained expression on his face almost broke her heart, but she held firm.

“Then choose. Me and our daughter, or your ‘allies’ and a world that doesn’t belong to you,” she replied calmly. He eyed her, the intensity of his gaze making her skin crawl, before he faded from sight in a flare of golden light.

As soon as he disappeared, she wrapped her arms around herself and cried.

* * *

 

The hours stretched on, as Padmé lay in bed, on her side, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. Her heart was in smoking ruins, and she felt utterly miserable.

She had got her lover back, only to lose him again. She didn’t entirely understand what had happened, but it seemed his family had been lying to him about his identity.

He was a Frost Giant. She vaguely remembered Loki telling her that they ruled the world of Jotunheim, and had been involved in a war with Asgard centuries before, but she didn’t understand why he believed himself a monster for being one. If it was the colour of his skin and eyes, although she still did not understand why he thought himself monstrous because of it, then he was ridiculous to think she’d be repulsed. She lived and worked on a planet populated by some of the oddest and most varied species in the Galaxy. It had never mattered.

And she was hurt he thought she felt it would.

And then somehow, he obviously found out about his true identity and it led to that awful dream on the bridge.

Padmé shivered at the recollection of it, and cradled herself tighter. What had happened to him? Where had the man she loved gone?

She remembered that pain, that desolation she’d sensed at the first meeting, and realised it had utterly overwhelmed the man she loved. He may not have died in body, that night on the bridge, but his heart had.

She didn’t know what to do.

Just then, she felt a hand slide over her stomach, and she almost wanted to weep in relief. It skimmed her flesh through the silk, and then tightened, holding her tightly, almost desperately. Warm breath washed over the nape of her neck.

“Forgive me,” he breathed. She gripped his hand, and lay there in blissful silence. “Padmé?”

She twisted over, in the embrace of his arm, and met his dark eyes in the half-light of her bedroom, smiling joyously. His skin was once again pale and smooth. She caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes at her touch.

She noted he was stripped down to his shirt and breeches, and she bent her head to his chest, pressing a kiss to where his heart thundered against her lips.

He shuddered, and pulled her close, burying his face against her neck, inhaling deeply of the scent of her hair, as if starved of it.

“I thought I’d lost you for good,” she whispered. His arms tightened around her.

“Never. It just took losing you to make me remember what was always the most important thing in my life since coming to this Galaxy,” he whispered huskily. “I love you, Padmé.”

Just then, their daughter sent out a wave of joy and contentment, coupled with curiosity. She was long used to the sensation, but Loki gasped, and she glanced up.

“You can feel her too?” she asked. He nodded.

“She is…powerful. Exquisite,” he breathed, almost laughing with each word. Jane took his hand and placed it harder against her abdomen.

“This is your father,” she murmured to their baby. “He’s home.”

The baby kicked, and she gasped, laughing. “I think that means where have you been?!” she giggled, meeting Loki’s eyes. He smiled, and it healed her heart to see it so free and light. “Will you stay?” she asked, and he regarded her steadily.

“Forever,” he murmured solemnly. “I have lost everything, Padmé. My home, my family, my identity. I belong nowhere.”

“You belong here, now, with me and our daughter,” she told him firmly. The necklace was pressed between them, and she pulled it up, holding it out to him. “And I belong to you. I have done ever since you gave this to me.”

“You mentioned something about Naboo?” he asked, as she readjusted her position against him.

“Yes. I’m officially resigning my place as Senator. I was going to go to Varykino for the birth. It’s quiet, isolated, peaceful,” she mused, laying her head on his chest. His hand tangled in her hair.

“The Lake Country?” he murmured. “Yes. That will do well enough.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Padmé laughed teasingly, and he glanced down at her, a wicked light in his eyes.

“I think, my lady, you’ve become insolent in my absence,” he replied seriously. “That your tongue of yours is far too impudent for your own good.”

“Then re-educate it,” she retorted. His eyes gleamed, and he bent his head to hers. Padmé’s entire body thrilled to the touch of his lips, after so many months without. She moaned, and slid one hand into his hair, longer than before, and twined it around her fingers. His tongue swept into her mouth, assured and passionate, and she felt her heart piece itself back together.

His arms were pulling her closer, when there came a hard kick against her stomach wall, and she winced. They both glanced down with wry smiles.

“I think that is a hint from our darling daughter,” Loki smirked proudly.

“Or she just has her father’s propensity for mischief,” Padmé suggested. Their eyes met, and his smile softened into tenderness, as he bent his head back to hers and brushed his mouth against her ever-welcoming one.

And there came another kick against his hand. He rolled his eyes and lay back with a defeated sigh.

“Very well, I can take a hint,” he sighed, wearily. Padmé laughed, and willingly lay back down by his side, warm in his arms, dreamily contemplating their future to come.

Together.

* * *

 

_Asgard, five years later_

The newly repaired Asbru Bridge gleamed against the starry backdrop of the Universe. The Observatory shone with its own golden light, as the falls of the Asgardian Ocean roared beneath it.

A figure marched briskly down the long, crystalline expanse, crimson cloak flying in his wake, golden hair bouncing with every stride.

Heimdall stood awaiting his Prince, with knowing golden eyes, as he clutched Hofud in his never-ceasing watch on the gate into Asgard.

“Is there any news?” Thor asked, blue eyes sad as he met the Guardian’s own. Two years ago, Heimdall had reported that he had caught a glimpse of the lost Prince, and every night, Thor returned to the place where he had lost him to ask for his whereabouts.

Heimdall had not found him again, until now.

“Yes, my Prince,” the Guardian bowed.

“Can you see him?” Thor asked, with hope lighting his cerulean eyes. His hand clenched around Mjolnir. “Is he safe?”

Heimdall chuckled. “Yes. He is safe, and loved,” he replied. “He resides on a world in the Galaxy he visited once, long ago. He plays with his wife and daughter in the gardens of Varykino, on the Realm of Naboo.”

Thor smiled, and then laughed, carefree for the first time in years. His brother was safe.

He had long forgiven him his part in his exile, and the disrupted coronation. He only wished he could see him again.

Perhaps he would, soon.

* * *

 

_Varykino, Naboo_

Loki smiled as he felt the familiar gaze of the Guardian, watching him from so far away. He had shielded himself for some time, before Padmé had convinced him to lift it, so his family might know he was safe and well.

His heart was healing after all it had suffered, and the sight of his wife and daughter, playing in the gentle Naboo sunlight was enough to fill him with joy.

Liné was five years old, and the greatest joy he had ever known. Holding her in his arms, after Padmé had given birth, had been the final push he needed to release his bitterness and pain, forever.

For her. His remarkable daughter.

She was radiant, like her mother, with long curls of the exact same shade, but her eyes were the same shade of deep agate as his own. Her pale skin was tinged slightly blue, but the combination was striking, lovely, not hideous as he had feared it might be. She was beloved by all her family, and they were intensely proud of her.

As Padmé glanced around at him, her husband, he straightened from his position against the pillar, and looked up to the sky. He smiled.

“Papa!” Liné’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he laughed as she launched herself into his arms. He picked her up and swung her around, relishing each childish giggle and whoop, before he let her down. Padmé came to his side, as their daughter rushed off again, chasing a butterfly over the lawns of their home.

Meeting her doe-eyed gaze, he smiled and kissed her, his heart light and free.

She had set him free. She had brought him peace.

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
